Costs
by Nineofwords
Summary: Lockdown asks for an unusual form of payment from Prowl for the samurai armor that leads the two to explore their developing relationship. Warning for smut
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:** Okay, so this was going to be a simple one-shot of pure, unadulterated smut.

Honestly, I have no clue how plot managed to sneak in here, but it did. This is the beginning of the colorful relationship between a Decepticon bounty hunter and an Autobot ninja. This fic is basically pure smut that somehow managed to get some plot, so if robots being physically intimate turns you off in any way, you should probably turn back cause that's all this is gonna be about for the first chapter or so. This fic follows loosely some of the plotlines of TFA, and picks up about halfway into _A Fistful of Energon_ in season 2, but since this was originally meant to be straight smut, forgive me if I'm not following all the details religiously. Alrighty then, hold onto your helmets, cause here we go!

Disclaimer: I own nothing. I am a broke college student, not HASBRO in its entirety. I _wish_ I was HASBRO. I'd like to rectify a few mistakes they allowed to occur *coughbayformerscoughcoughbeastmachinescough*. Plus, you know, wealth and stuff. _ONWARDS TO THE FIC_.

"So you wanna play bounty hunter? You better be ready to go aaaaall the way."

Lockdown fingered the helm, optics never leaving Prowl.

Prowl's own optics were locked on the armor. There was desire in those shining blue lights, a desire Lockdown knew was mirrored in his own red ones.

"You want it, don't you?" Lockdown asked, servo trailing down the side of the helmet. Prowl, unable for once to control himself, made a small whine of agreement. Lockdown chuckled, pinching one of the chevrons and rubbing them between his thumb and forefinger. "What would you be willing to..._do_ for it, Prowl?"

"Anything," Prowl breathed, eyes not leaving the helm.

Lockdown flicked his glossa across his dental plates. "Anything...and anyone?"

Ah, _that_ got his attention. Prowl's optics flicked for the first time to Lockdown. To the way he was leaning suggestively against the trophy case, to the fire burning in his optics.

"Oh," Prowl said, realization dawning on that gorgeous angular face.

"Yeah, 'oh'," Lockdown scoffed. "For someone as slippery as you, you're pretty slow on uptake." He pushed away from the trophy case and went to stand in front of Prowl. His servos trailed hungrily down the slight frame. "So what'dya say, kid? A little 'face time in exchange for the helmet? If it's not too-"

Lockdown was cut short by Prowl shoving him hard against the trophy case, lip plates pressing angrily, hungrily against Lockdown's. Lockdown growled in response, and his hands flew to Prowl's slender form, one hand cupped around his head to pull him tighter into the kiss, the hook curling possessively at his waist.

"You do catch on quick, don't you though?" Lockdown managed to get out as Prowl went for a taste of his neck cables.

Lockdown groaned at Prowl nipped at his cables a little harder than was absolutely necessary. It hurt, but _Primus_ was it turning him on.

"Are you going to keep talking," Prowl asked him venting heavily. "Or are you going to frag me senseless, Decepticon?"

"Careful, Autobot," Lockdown purred, beginning to play with Prowl's chevrons the way he had the helmet's. He leaned in close to Prowl's audio receptors and murmured "Those're fighting words."

Prowl's legs went weak at the unexpected touch to such a sensitive area, and Lockdown was pleased with the loud moan it produced from him. Lockdown suddenly found himself supporting Prowl's weight. Well, he thought, this would be more interesting than he'd originally hoped.

Lockdown let Prowl slip slightly through his servos so that he had a better position on what he wanted to do. He still held Prowl up by his shoulders, but he dipped his head and wrapped his lips around one of Prowl's chevrons. Slowly, deliberately, Lockdown began sucking up and down the chevron's length, flicking his glossa out occasionally to scrape briefly against the pointed helm.

The sounds he managed to draw out of Prowl were almost as delicious as Prowl himself.

So focused was he on attending to Prowl that he didn't notice the other mech's wandering hands until they were inside his inexplicably opened interface panel.

_Oh_.

Lockdown threw his head back and let out a deep, guttural sound. It was probably originally meant to be Prowl's name. The noise that came out was far from sensical enough to be a name, however.

"You fragger...I didn't even feel you..._ug_...open me up."

Prowl smirked, and Lockdown wanted to swallow it with a kiss. "I _am_ a ninja, Lockdown," Prowl reminded him, servos slowly ghosting along Lockdown's length. "I would be remiss if I couldn't manage at least _this_ much." The Autobot was _teasing_ him, fraggit. He was a Decepticon bounty hunter - he was powerful, deadly, and would not tolerate being _teased_ by a slagging _Autobot_.

Roughly, Lockdown gripped Prowl tighter, spun him around, and rammed _him_ up against the trophy case, harder than Prowl had done to him. Prowl winced and Lockdown put his lips against Prowl's audio receptors and hissed "I am going to frag you, Prowl. I am going to frag you so hard, you'll have glitches in your system for decacycles. You won't be able to see straight for twice that long. I am going to pound you into oblivion, and when I'm done, you'll be so dented you won't be able to transform. And you'll _like_ it - you'll beg me for _more_, you pathetic little Autobot."

"I will hold you to that promise," Prowl returned smoothly, but the increased pace of his venting gave him away.

Lockdown held Prowl's optics with his own, and without looking began to fumble with Prowl's own interface panel. Intentionally, Lockdown let his fingers trail aimlessly in their quest for the catch. Prowl's engine hitched, his frame quivering, and leaned in for a kiss. Lockdown pulled away. Prowl had been teasing him earlier; payback was such a bitch.

Prowl whined needily, straining to claim Lockdown's lips. But Lockdown pushed him back against the trophy case and kept exploring Prowl's interface panel. It was so gratifying to see the pure need in Prowl's optics, coupled with pleasure as Lockdown pressed just right against his catch.

"Would you like me to release you," he asked quietly, fingers playing at the edges of the panel.

"Y-y-yes," Prowl breathed, and Lockdown felt gratified by the stutter in that usually smooth voice.

Lockdown gripped the panel hard, and Prowl gasped, optics going wide. "Beg," Lockdown said huskily. "Beg me to open your panel."

"P-p-please," Prowl said. It was delicious how readily he complied, how easy it was to turn him into putty. "Please, oh...primus, _please…_"

Lockdown's fingers pressed hard so close to the release catch that Prowl groaned and pressed himself as close to Lockdown as possible, clinging desperately to his spikes. "Frag, _please_, I'm _begging_ you…"

"Say my name," Lockdown commanded, massaging his fingers into the seam of the panel.

"Ung, you slagger," Prowl hissed, and Lockdown felt his systems humming at the sound of Prowl uttering profanities.

"Say it, Autobot," he repeated, pressing hard into the seam. Prowl half winced, his engines revving hard.

Slowly, deliberately, almost as though he were tasting the sounds as they came off of his glossa, Prowl held Lockdown's eyes and whispered "Lock...down."

Lockdown shuddered at how _hot_ that made him. He flicked the catch on the interface panel, sliding it open. He ran his hand along Prowl's equipment, eliciting heady moans from Prowl. Primus, but could that mech moan.

He moved to do more, but Prowl stayed his hand, the other servo wandering across Lockdown's body, fingers digging into cracks in his armor with a painful sensuality. "Are you going to return the favor?" Prowl asked, a devious light in his optics. "Aren't you going to say _my_ name, _Lockdown_."

Lockdown smirked. "That ain't how it works. You want the helmet, I call the shots."

Prowl looked unimpressed. "That is hardly fair," he commented.

Lockdown made a humming noise of agreement. "Life ain't fair. Deal with it." And then, because Prowl's pout was too adorable to miss out on, he claimed the other mech's lip-plates with his own.

"So how do you want me, then?" Prowl asked, between Lockdown's attentions to his lips and virtually every other part of his head and neck. "Should I make this difficult, or do you want me all nicely tied up with a pretty pink bow?"

"Mmm, pink doesn't suit you," Lockdown purred into Prowl's ear, and playfully began grinding his open panel against Prowl's. Prowl shuddered, his engine sputtering, and nipped at Lockdown's neck cords again. "I think...mmph...energon chains...ah...suit you...mm..._so_ much more, don't you...think, kid?"

"Don't...call me...uuug...kid," the motorcycle hissed, clinging to the spikes along Lockdown's back as he started grinding harder.

"Why? Does it...uh..._bother you?_ _Kid_."

Smoothly, Prowl hooked one of his legs behind one of Lockdown's, sending the two crashing to the ground, Prowl landing on Lockdown's chest.

"Quite the temper you got there," Lockdown noticed conversationally, as though he hadn't just been grinding his exposed equipment against Prowl's mere seconds ago.

Prowl's only response was to quickly steal a passionate kiss from Lockdown, position himself above Lockdown's port, and then drive powerfully (almost painfully) home.

"Primus," Lockdown panted, enjoying how Prowl was taking control. "Maybe...UH...I should call you….kid, mm….more often...if this is….uh...the result."

Prowl drove his spike _hard_ into Lockdown's port, and Lockdown cried out in pain, then ecstasy as Prowl's magnetised spike locked into Lockdown's port and they both went straight into overload. Lockdown clenched around Prowl, his hand and claw scrabbling to find purchase on Prowl's body as they both rode out the energy waves.

Prowl fell, vents cycling loudly, onto Lockdown's chassis, apparently spent. His optics were closed, and Lockdown couldn't help but entertain the idea Prowl might be a virgin. _Obviously_ that wasn't true, what with how masterfully he'd just overloaded the both of them. But the poor mech just seemed so _exhausted_. No stamina whatsoever.

Lockdown stroked Prowl's helm, lingering on the chevrons and making him shudder. "I didn't say you could overload me," Lockdown murmured quietly. Prowl's hands tightened a little on where they gripped Lockdown, but he didn't say anything. "You'll need to be punished." He ran a finger down Prowl's cheek. "Such a pretty face," he murmured. "I'd love to see it smeared with lubricant."

Prowl shivered, this time with anticipation as Lockdown, grinning wickedly, slowly started guiding the robo-ninja's helm towards his pelvis.

"Nice," Lockdown said appreciatively, circling Prowl like a sharkticon. "Veeery nice."

Lockdown's ship was a mess. His trophy case had long been knocked over well into the night, after they'd thrown one another into it one too many times. There was lubricant on the floor in various places, stasis cuffs and energon chains, as well as more questionable toys scattered around the room.

Lockdown felt he'd made good on his promise. Both of them were dented and scraped and covered in the other's fluids (not all of it was lubricant - they'd gotten into a fight halfway through, and energon was spilled on both sides before Lockdown, pinned by Prowl, had claimed a hot and heady kiss and they'd started all over again).

And now Prowl was wearing that armor he'd so desperately wanted.

"Well kid, what'dya think? Was it worth it?" Lockdown asked, lounging up against the control console (they'd bent each other over that a few times, and he'd have to recalibrate a few of his settings in order for the ship to fly properly).

"It was...an acceptable trade," Prowl said, examining the seams and edges of the armor to make sure everything was in place.

"Mmm, it's a shame, though," Lockdown mused, moving away from the console to run a single finger down a seam on Prowl's back. "You worked so hard to get into that armor." He slipped his arms under Prowl's and purred into his audio receptors "And now all I want to do is get you out of it again."

Prowl stiffened in his arms, then twisted around in Lockdown's embraced and pulled the taller mech's helm down to his own lip plates. He succeeded in getting a kiss out of Lockdown, but threw off the larger mech's balance, and the two went toppling to the floor once more.

"Excuse me Ratchet, but if you could spare-"

"WHAT the SLAGGING PITS happened to YOU?"

"I...Ratchet, there is no need for-"

"_I'LL_ decide what there's a need for in _MY_ med bay, thank you very much. Now, _what the slag happened_?"

"I...erm...I got in a fight."

"What, with an angry blender that got itself stuck between your _thighs_?"

"Ratchet, I would appreciate it if you wouldn't speak of this to anyone."

"...are you telling me there actually WAS a homicidal blender? Do we need to get the rest of the team out there to deal with it? Should we call Detroit's housewives and ask if any of them are missing a blender? Or if any of them have been tinkering with evil electrical intelligence, perhaps?"

"Primus Ratchet, I don't need this kind of abuse."

"You want repairs, you're putting up with it!"

"...it wasn't a blender _per say_. Honestly...I'm not entirely sure _what_ it was."

"Primus, what did you DO, Prowl?"

"Something...probably something irrevocably stupid."

"From the look of you, I'd have to agree."


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note:** This probably would have been up sooner, except that Ratchet is a bitch to write (serious thanks go to my friend who not only takes the time to edit & give feedback on my craziness but also helped me completely rework the Ratchet scene). I have a new-found respect for anybody who can just sit down and write the Hatchet, cause damn.

Warning: some slight plot starts showing up in this chapter. I know, I know, you came for the smut, but there's still plenty here, so don't worry. I should have chapter three up fairly quickly since Ratchet doesn't really make an appearance.

I want to thank you guys for the favorites and the review, it's extraordinarily encouraging. 3

As always, Lockdown is a little shit, Prowl is a repressed sexually frustrated Autobot ninja, and Ratchet is cranky. Have fun.

* * *

Lockdown had not been expecting a second visit from the lean Autobot ninja. "Well well well, if it isn't the kid," he said, leaning back casually in his chair, spreading his legs slightly. Prowl's reaction was exactly what he'd been hoping for: Prowl's optics went straight to his interface panel before glancing away, embarrassed. Lockdown permitted himself a soft chuckle before asking "What can I _do_ for you today, Autobot? Got any..._pressing_ mod needs I could _fill_? Or do you just have a gear to _grind_ with me? Don't be shy, Prowl: I want to get to the _thrust_ of the issue."

Prowl drew himself up a little taller, as though he were steeling himself against Lockdown's teasing. "I wish to speak with you about...our previous encounter."

Lockdown stretched luxuriously, intentionally showing off the full length of his frame. "It _was_ fun, huh kid? Is that why you tracked me down: You wanted another go at me 'n my mods?"

Prowl just stood in his doorway, looking slightly embarrassed and uncomfortable. It was absolutely _adorable_. It was also the only confirmation Lockdown needed.

"You do, don't you?" Lockdown asked, a devious grin spreading across his face. He got up from his chair and crossed the floor to Prowl. Easily, he put his one good servo on the small of Prowl's back and began to guide him over to his mod wall. Prowl's back stiffed at Lockdown's touch, and he dug his heels into the floor just enough to make Lockdown amused.

"Lockdown, wait -"

"Pick your poison, kid," Lockdown said, gesturing grandly at his collection of mods. "Anything you like, you let me know. Remember, though, they aaaall got a price. Some'r higher than others, but none are quite as much as that pretty little piece of armor you took off my servos -"

"Lockdown!" Prowl interrupted sharply. "I did not come here for modifications!"

Lockdown's servo fell from Prowl's back, and he took a step back, his playful air gone. "Then what do you want?" he demanded harshly. He knew Prowl didn't have the same mod obsession that he did, but it wouldn't _kill_ the mech to pretend to have an interest. And if Prowl wasn't intending to "buy" any mods off of him, Lockdown didn't see much point in the other mech's being there.

Prowl looked uncomfortable and wouldn't meet his optics. "The...other day, when we...when we _interfaced_…"

"Yeah? What about it?" It had been a purely business transaction. If the motorcycle didn't want mods, what point was there in even discussing this?

"Well...it seemed remarkably one sided," Prowl observed. "After all, you were the one calling most of the shots."

"Well no shit," Lockdown scoffed. "You want my merch, you do what I say. That's how it _works_, kid. You want something, you gotta be willing to pay for it."

"Yes, but suppose _I_ wanted to...call...some...shots…" Prowl had started out that sentence sounding like normal Prowl. But at the end, his voice had lost its power, its innate confidence, and had faded out into something like a whisper.

Lockdown crossed his arms and raised an optic ridge. "Well then, you'd have to be willing to give me something _I_ wanted."

Prowl vented in frustration. The frustration seemed to give him the momentum he needed, because he sounded far more confident as he blurted "That is not what I was suggesting, Lockdown."

"I didn't realize you were suggesting anything, kid."

"Well I am," he said hotly. He shook his head, turning to leave. "This was a mistake." But before he'd even taken a few steps, Lockdown's arm was blocking his path.

"Now you've got me curious," Lockdown said. Prowl looked up at him, jaw set, mulish and stubborn. _Primus_, but that mech was a looker. "What exactly were you suggesting, Prowl?"

Prowl fidgeted, but didn't break optic-contact with Lockdown this time. "I was _proposing_, if you must know, a sort of...mutualistic arrangement in a manner similar to our last encounter."

Lockdown couldn't help but smirk. "You mean you just want to frag?"

And now Prowl looked absolutely, deliciously mortified. "You don't have to put it so bluntly," Prowl protested, but his vents were cycling a little quicker than they had been previously.

"And you don't have to put it so _elegantly_," Lockdown countered. He advanced on Prowl, forcing the shorter, slighter mech up against the wall. He rested both of his arms against the wall, blocking Prowl's escape on either side, his face inches away from Prowl's own. "I'm just some lowdown Decepticon scum, remember? You gotta use simple words to get that pretty little point of yours across."

Prowl was venting hard now, but his voice was deceptively even. "You didn't seem to have any trouble understanding me," he countered.

Lockdown had to smile at that. "So what did you have in mind," he asked, taking a hand off the wall to aimlessly trace a servo down Prowl's slender frame. "A little foreplay, or should we jump right to the toys?" His grin was wicked, his forehead nearly touching Prowl's.

"We are _not_ using that blender thing again," Prowl suddenly said, putting a hand against Lockdown's chest and pushing him back slightly. Slag was he hot when he wanted to get serious.

"It's _not_ a blender," Lockdown corrected, his tone showing a disapproval of Prowl's ignorance. But even as he said it, he pressed his body closer to Prowl's and started tracing designs across the other mech's arm. "It is a repurposed micromaster rotor. And I think you know _exactly_ what it was repurposed for," he added, nuzzling against Prowl's neck cables.

Prowl let out a small grunt at Lockdown's attention. "...Yes, well, we're _not_ using it again."

"I didn't hear you complaining the last time I stuck it between your-"

"Yes, well," Prowl said, coughing uncomfortably. Lockdown chuckled. It was just too fun making Prowl squirm. "It leaves very _distinctive_ scuff marks. Ratchet was asking questions."

"Mmm. What did you tell that has-been of a quack?"

"I would prefer not to have to tell him _anything_, to be perfectly honest."

Lockdown stopped nuzzling Prowl's neck and looked him in the optic. "Are you saying I can't leave any marks on you? At _all_?"

Prowl licked his dental plates. "It would be...preferable."

A slow smile spread across Lockdown's lip plates. He slammed his hand and claw against the wall hard, making Prowl jump, but Lockdown saw arousal in Prowl's optics nonetheless. "Well then, Autobot," he purred, pressing close against the motorcycle once more and rotating his hips suggestively against Prowl's own. "You don't want me to give you any scratches? Any dents?" He leaned in and murmured in Prowl's audio receptors. "Then you're just going to have to try to stop me, aren't you? _If_ you think you're up to the challenge."

Prowl really _was_ venting hard now, and Lockdown reached down with his hand to hit the catch on Prowl's interface panel. He gripped Prowl's spike and began moving his hand roughly across it. Prowl gasped, his optics dimming instinctively. Soon, Lockdown had Prowl groaning under his attentions. Lockdown continued murmuring in Prowl's audio receptor, not missing a beat. "I thought you _liked_ it rough, Autobot. You _like_ that I'm reckless and unpredictable. You _like_ that I don't care if I'm denting you, 'cause I'm too busy fragging you into oblivion. And _you_ like denting _me_, you disgusting Autobot. You _like_ seeing your handiwork all over my frame. You're no better than I am - you'd be better suited as a Decepticon. You're _wasted_ as an Autobot."

"Stop," Prowl gasped, one hand grabbing Lockdown's fast-pumping wrist and attempting to hold it still.

"Why should I?" Lockdown purred, continuing his ministrations. "Give me one good reason, _Autobot_."

Prowl's hand tightened around his wrist, so that the grip was almost painful. His optics flashed on, and bored into Lockdown's own. "Because," Prowl hissed, having successfully stopped the motion of Lockdown's hand. "Because I am _not_ overloading until my spike is buried so deep into your port that we'll need surgical equipment to get it out." He pried Lockdown's hand from his spike. "Now let go of me, and get on your back, Decepticon," he growled, desire making his vocal processor drop several octaves.

"Why don't you make me, _Prowl_," Lockdown countered, the Autobot's name coming out as a guttural growl.

Prowl responded by attempting to sweep Lockdown's leg again, as he'd done the first time he and Lockdown had actually established a hard connection. But Lockdown wasn't going to let Prowl use that trick on him twice, not even for that lovely threat Prowl had issued him. "Uh uh uh," Lockdown said, waggling a servo at him. "I'm disappointed in you Prowl. I expected a little more creativity from you, being so expertly trained in combat."

"'Creative' this," Prowl snarled and slammed a fist into one of Lockdown's audio receptors.

Well that was...unexpected.

And suddenly, Lockdown felt himself falling. He wasn't entirely sure _what_ had just happened until Prowl was climbing on top of him and was pressing the catch on his interface panel, hissing insults at him. "Fragging Decepticon. Apparently the word 'mutual' doesn't mean anything to Decepticons. If I wanted to get jacked off, I would have just stayed in my hab suite and done it myself, you slagger. I came here to get a solid frag, not to be insulted by a bounty hunter."

Lockdown realized that after dazing him with a blow to his audio receptor, Prowl had swept Lockdown's leg to send him crashing to the floor.

With a groan, Lockdown rubbed his ringing audio receptor. "Damn, Prowl. Didn't think you had it in you." He curled his hand and his hook tightly on Prowl's hips. "You might not have come here to be insulted by a bounty hunter, but admit it: It turned you on."

Prowl's only response was to growl and line his equipment up with Lockdown's.

* * *

Lockdown watched as Prowl carefully used a rag to wipe the lubricant off of his interface panel, wincing somewhat as he brushed against the overstimulated sensors in that area. Lockdown was sprawled casually across his floor, his own interface panel open - he had no Autobot base to return to, and couldn't be bothered to clean himself up so soon after their fun.

"Mmm...shame you gotta cover up that pretty little piece you got so soon, kid," he mused, reaching out to run a servo across the now-closed panel.

Prowl shivered and murmured "Don't-"

"Don't what? Call you 'kid'? What should I call you then? 'Sweetspark', maybe? 'Darling Deception to be'?" He couldn't help laughing at the ridiculousness of calling Prowl pet names, and as he did he traced designs on Prowl's cover.

"Don't do _that_," Prowl clarified, pushing Lockdown's hand away from him.

Lockdown managed to look vaguely offended. "What, we faced and now all of a sudden you don't want anything to do with me? That's cold, Prowl, even for an Autobot."

It was astonishingly adorable how Prowl's little looks of disapproval were. "Lockdown, I am exhausted. I couldn't put out an electrical charge if I wanted to. I am going to go home and collapse onto my berth and recharge for as long as physically possible before my shift tomorrow morning."

"Oooh, working mech," Lockdown purred, moving across the floor to wrap his arms around Prowl and nuzzle his neck before speaking into his audio receptors: "Have I ever told you how hot it gets me, you being all responsible?"

Prowl gave a long-suffering sigh that only made Lockdown hug him tighter. "No, you have not informed me of this," Prowl said, and Lockdown saw the beginnings of a smile playing across his lip plates. "Perhaps you will have to discuss it with me next time. In depth."

"Mmmm, I like the sound of that," Lockdown murmured as Prowl stood up and he was forced to release his newfound Autobot playmate.

Lockdown stood too, and his expression suddenly turned serious. "Hang on kid," he said, and Prowl stopped on his way out Lockdown's door.

"What is it?" Prowl asked scowling, not liking Lockdown's look.

Lockdown propped his claw on his hip and took in Prowl's frame, his optics lingering on the Autobot sigil on the ninja's abdomen. "Look kid, I know this ain't exactly a serious thing," he said, not quite hesitant. "But you sure there should _be_ a next time? I mean...you're an Autobot, I'm a Decepticon. That spells trouble no matter which way you slice it."

Prowl made a face at him. "Lockdown, I am not proposing that we fall in love with one another," he said a bit condescendingly. Lockdown had to chuckle at that. "I merely wish for this to be a...mutual exercise in which we relieve the extraordinary stresses our positions place on us. Nothing more."

Lockdown shrugged. "Well, if you think you can handle my Decepticon wiles, you're welcome in my ship anytime." Lockdown's grin turned devious. "But be warned: Many have found me to be completely and totally irresistible."

The look Prowl gave him was dubious at best, and his gaze swept down to Lockdown's pelvis, then back up to his optics. "I might find that somewhat easier to swallow," he said dryly, "if it wasn't coming from a mech whose interfacing equipment is hanging out for all the universe to see."

Lockdown shrugged again, helplessly. "Hey, when you got it, why not flaunt it?"

Prowl shook his head and left. Lockdown, feeling immensely satisfied with himself, stretched and went to grab some energon before heading back to his monitors to keep tabs on his projects.

* * *

"Oh for _Primus' sake_"

"Ratchet, I know you don't approve, but-"

"DAMN RIGHT I DON'T APPROVE. I don't particularly approve of _anything_ that leaves one of my mechs looking like he came out on the bad end of a fight with a sex-starved _weed-whacker._"

Lockdown chuckled at that over his cube of warmed energon. It had been easy to slip a bug between Prowl's armor plates when they'd first made a mess of his ship. He wasn't about to pass up the opportunity to listen in on what the Autobots were doing. And even if he didn't learn anything particularly useful, Prowl's little discussions with Ratchet were quite amusing. Part of him wished he'd thought to add visuals, because Ratchet's face was sure to be priceless. Logistically, though, he knew he wouldn't have been able to swing that without Prowl's active consent. And Prowl would _not_ have consented to it.

"If _you think_ I'm going to patch you up WITHOUT a proper explanation for why you're dented half to the pit, missing _half_ of your paint on your lower regions, and so low on power you need to be jump-started with a _car-battery, _then you've got another thing coming, Prowl," Ratchet continued.

"Ratchet, _please_ – it's bad enough that I look like a disaster victim. Can we _not_ add interrogation to the mix? Please?"

Ratchet's voice became much gentler, but there was still a hard edge to it, as well as something else Lockdown couldn't discern. "Prowl . . . be honest with me. Are you being . . . _hacked_ by anyone?"

Ah. Concern. Lockdown toyed with his energon cube, mildly amused. Trust Ratchet to jump to the worst possible conclusion. What a sap.

"_What_? Ratchet, what kind of question _is that_?"

Oh yeah, definitely concern. "This is the second time you've come into my medbay with clear signs of violent interface. You also refuse to talk to me about it, which might be a sign of shame. But put those two together, and, well, there's only one conclusion I can really draw, Prowl." Ratchet's voice now had a tinge of apprehension, as if he were afraid of what might Prowl might say, might confirm. Lockdown idly wondered how much Ratchet cared about his patients, if it was just a responsibility to him. Something was niggling at the back of his mind. "As your medic, I have an obligation to the mental and physical well-being of my patients, and if someone is abusing you, I _need_ to know so that I can _help_. I'm bound by my oath, Prowl. Everything you tell me stays between us. Not even Prime gets to know. _Talk _to me, Prowl – I can't help you otherwise."

There was a long silence, and Lockdown could picture Prowl's processor whirring as he weighed all his options. He frowned at his cup. Something was bothering him about Ratchet's tone, but he couldn't place a finger on it.

"No one's hacking me, Ratchet," Prowl finally said. There was a brief pause, and it became clear that he didn't intend to say anything more.

"Good," Ratchet's voice had regained all of its acerbity. "I take it you won't mind if I don't do anything to patch you up then!"

"What? Ratchet!" Prowl's voice had shot up an octave, and Lockdown could hear sounds of movement. "You can't just leave me looking like _this!_ Doesn't that go against some sort of code you took as a medic?:

"We're in an official warzone, kiddo," Ratchet shot back, sounding gruffer than ever. "I have to prioritize injuries, consolidate resources. Your little scratches aren't a direct result of battle, nor are they impeding your ability to function. I don't have to do _anything_, apart from getting you fueled back up."

"Ratchet-!"

"That's triage for you! Unless you want to tell me what's _really_ going on." Concern had crept back."Prowl?"

There was another long pause.

Prowl's voice broke the silence, hesitant. "There's this . . . mech . . ."

The little snitch.All it took was a little pressure from Ratchet and Prowl was ready to spill all his secrets. Typical weak-willed Autobot.

"You don't say." Absolute deadpan from Ratchet. "Anything more obvious you want to tell me? 'The sky is blue,' perhaps? 'Water is wet'? 'Asphalt is hard'?"

"We're interfacing, okay? Just . . . just 'facing. It's a mutual thing."(Prowl really did have a boner for that word, didn't he?) "We're both consenting. It's . . we just . . . it's just some stupid fling, okay?" It seemed Ratchet had learned, just as Lockdown had, that the fastest way to get Prowl to open up and say what he meant was to make him angry. And it was remarkable how _sexy_ Prowl was when he was angry.

There was another long pause as Ratchet processed that information. "You care to tell me who?"

"I don't see how that information is relevant to patching me up, doctor."

"It's not." The very distinctive sound of dents being pounded out came over the speakers, and Lockdown assumed that Ratchet had begun repairs. "I just want to be prepared for when you start bringing whoever this is back to base."

Silence between the two. "That . . . that will not be happening, Ratchet."

There was more silence, punctuated by the metallic sound of a dent puller vacuuming out the dings in Prowl's armor. Then Ratchet vented out a long sigh. "Prowl, I want you to be _extremely_ careful about how you proceed."

" . . What do you mean, Ratchet?"

"Don't play innocent with me, you glitch." There was a loud clang as Prowl earned himself a new dent. Lockdown shifted, feeling vaguely annoyed with the medic for laying a servo on _his_ plaything. It was terribly unprofessional. "You are a _terrible_ liar. You're embarrassed. You're embarrassed to tell me who this mech is, so embarrassed that you tried to get away with _not telling_ me you were interfacing. As if I wouldn't know, _please_." There was a brushing sound, and a burst of static. "And while we're on the subject," More static. Ratchet was reapplying paint, Lockdown realized. Idly, he wondered if he would have to replace the bug. "You're getting a_ complete_ medical scan from me before you leave this base again. The last thing we need is some virus shutting you down."

"Ratchet-"

"Shut up, I'm not done. From what I've gathered, you have zero intention of bringing this mystery mech back to base. So not only are you ashamed to admit you're banging somebody (oh _grow up,_ Prowl, with the dents you're getting, it's considered officially 'banging') but you also have no intention of letting the rest of the team meet said mech. Which means that you're either 'facing a neutral - and let's be honest, there wouldn't _be_ neutrals on this backwater planet - or you're facing a Con."

There was an enormous pause. "Well? Am I wrong?"

" . . . no sir."

"Damn straight." Brushing, clanging, more static. Finally, Ratchet spoke. His voice had regained a touch of gentleness. "Prowl . . . be _careful_. I trust you. I trust your professionalism, and I trust that you won't get so caught up in - in _whatever_ this is - that you'll spill all our secrets. But I've seen too many mechs scarred from a relationship across the battlefield gone wrong. Someone always gets hurt."

"Primus, you sound just like . . ."

" . . . like _who_, Prowl?" Irritation had returned. Lockdown grinned.

"It . . it doesn't matter. Thank you for your assistance, Ratchet."

"Hold up there, kiddo. Didn't I say you weren't leaving 'till I gave you a complete medical scan? No, _close that door._"

"But Ratchet, I have a shift-"

"Yeah? You should've thought of that before you went out and banged a Con! Back on the berth!"

What followed was a mix of indignant sputtering on Prowl's part, and frustrated sputtering on Ratchet's. Lockdown chuckled once more and turned down his monitor's speakers, setting his now empty cube aside. Medical scans were long, boring, and usually involved the patient being asleep, so he doubted he'd glean any Autobot secrets from the next few hours. He recorded everything anyways, and he needed to get some recharge in. With a stretch, he left his chair and walked lazily to his cramped recharge chamber, confident in letting the monitors handle everything for the time being.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note:** Hey guys. I said this would be up soon. This chapter is basically a series of unrelated encounters Lockdown and Prowl have, but we get to see a little more of Lockdown NOT as a walking innuendo. Which is both good and bad, I guess.

_Warning:_ Some serious plot starts appearing at the end. If you're in this for the smut, I'd recommend abandoning ship after the second little segment. For the rest of you, I hope you like a side of temper tantrum with your angst.

As always, thank you for the favorites and the follows, and enjoy. ;)

* * *

Ratchet had officially given Prowl several days off. Prowl refused to explain why, but Lockdown had heard the exchange between the medic and the motorcycle via his bug, about how overstressed Prowl had seemed of late and how he should take some time off to "relieve some of that stress".

The two were taking an energon break between toys, interface panels left open, the two sprawled across one another on the floor.

Prowl was on his back, leaning up against the wall slightly so he could sip his energon without spilling. Lockdown was on his side, and was using Prowl's torso to prop himself up. He was holding his cube of energon with his hand, his hook aimlessly tracing spirals across Prowl's frame.

"You are extraordinarily tactually oriented after interface."

Lockdown gave a start, nearly spilling his energon. "Are you calling me _cuddly_?" he demanded, craning his head to glare up at Prowl.

Prowl smirked down at him. "Perhaps," Prowl said, hand trailing down Lockdown's helm. "Although 'cuddly' might be too strong a word for it. You simply seem to enjoy _touching_."

Lockdown snorted, settling back into a more comfortable position, and resumed tracing lines with his hook. "You should count your lucky stars for that, kid. If I _didn't_ like touching, you wouldn't be gettin any right now."

Prowl chuckled and started petting Lockdown's helm. "Whatever you say, _cuddler_."

Lockdown jabbed his hook into Prowl's insignia and shifted to glare up at him again. "I am _not_ cuddly," he snarled. "I am a Decepticon, a mercenary who is responsible for the deaths of countless mechs. Just because I'm avoiding the pointless fights of the war doesn't make me any less dangerous than every other Decepticon. I am not _cute_, I am not _cuddly_ - I am dangerous."

Prowl cocked an optic ridge, unimpressed. Dammit, he wasn't supposed to be so hot when Lockdown was mad at him! "I apologize if I somehow insinuated you were any less of a warrior because you enjoy your sense of touch," he said dryly, sounding incredibly insincere. "Please tell me, however can I make it up to you?"

Lockdown just glared up at Prowl for a few moments. Suddenly, he sat upright and swung his legs over so that he and Prowl were sitting opposite each other. Before Prowl could guess what he had in mind, Lockdown snatched Prowl's cube of energon from his servo and started pouring it into his lap.

Prowl sat up, startled. "Lockdown! What are you-"

"Shut up," Lockdown snarled, optics focused on what he was doing. He poured the last drop of energon onto his open interface panel and then chucked the cube away. He turned his optic's on Prowl's. "Clean it up," he said, pointing to the mess he'd just made.

Prowl frowned. "What?"

"You heard me," Lockdown said. "You asked how you could make it up to me? Clean up this mess." He saw Prowl reaching for his subspace compartment, for the rag he always kept there. "No," Lockdown said, catching Prowl's optics and holding them with his own. "Clean it up with your glossa."

Understanding sparked in Prowl's optic, and his mouth twitched in what might have been the beginnings of a smirk. From his seated position, he bowed grandly. Then he shifted onto his stomach and moved between Lockdown's open legs.

Lockdown's optics stayed on Prowl as the motorcycle teasingly touched the tip of his glossa to Lockdown's interfacing equipment and ghosted it along the sensitive plating around his spike.

"You're going to have to do better than that, if you want me to accept your apology, kid," Lockdown growled, just managing to hold in the soft moan that had wanted to escape at Prowl's attentions.

"Just acquiring a taste for you," the Autobot said demurely, then ran his full glossa across the same spot he'd just gone over with the tip.

Lockdown let out a low groan. He couldn't figure out which was hotter: Prowl talking dirty to him with profanities or Prowl talking dirty to him with that elegant speech of his. "So how _do_ I taste?" he asked.

Prowl made a humming noise as though he were thinking. "Well...to be perfectly honest, I think I'd have prefered to finish my energon _without_ the taste of Decepticon spike."

Lockdown scowled. Dammit Prowl. Why did he have to be decidedly unsexy at times? "Then maybe next time you shouldn't piss me off," he growled. "Then I won't have to do something drastic, like dump energon all over myself.

Prowl laughed, hot air venting onto Lockdown's open equipment. He shivered at the sensation. "But Lockdown," Prowl protested innocently. "You're just so _fuckable_ when you're angry with me."

_Definitely_ hotter when he was swearing, Lockdown decided.

Lockdown was about to shoot back a retort, but Prowl's glossa was working against his sensitive plating again, and he was reduced to incoherent noises of pleasure. Prowl (damn Autobot) was intentionally avoiding directly touching either Lockdown's spike or port with his glossa, and was instead teasing him by cleaning up the energon spill in the rest of the limited space his interface panel usually covered.

"Would….you….ung….get…._ON_...with….it?" Lockdown demanded, his fist clenching and unclenching spasmodically at his side.

"Why, whatever is the matter?" Prowl asked innocently from between his legs. "I thought you wanted me to clean up this sticky mess of yours."

_Definitely_ hotter when he wasn't swearing. Or maybe that was just because he'd finally taken Lockdown's fully extended spike into his mouth, and rendered Lockdown even more nonsensical than before.

* * *

"Oh...Prowl. I….mph...forgot to mention," Lockdown said conversationally, as though his spike wasn't thrusting in and out of Prowl's port, as though Lockdown's own port weren't accommodating Prowl's spike, and as though Prowl weren't on his hands and knees in front of Lockdown, shivering from the bounty hunter's solid pounding.

Prowl made a grunting noise that almost sounded like "Uh-huh?" The motorcycle apparently didn't feel like talking right at that moment.

"I uuh...got some new-oooo..._mods_ recently. Wanted to...ugn...try 'em out."

Lockdown could almost see Prowl rolling his optics, could almost hear Prowl mentally accusing him of killing the mood.  
"I...I think you're, mmm, really gonna...ah..._like_ 'em."  
"Couldn't we dis - UH...discuss this...unf..._later_, Lockdown?"

Lockdown couldn't help but smile wickedly. "Nope." And with that he activated the first mod.

Prowl let out a yelp at the sudden unexpected vibration coming from Lockdown's spike. Lockdown's smile widened at the obvious pleasure Prowl was getting from the new modification. "This..._particular_ feature," Lockdown said, as though he were an old car salesman, "I had...aaah...to install myself. Could you…._imagine_...mmph...me finding a quack...to do it..._for_ me?"

"Lockdown," Prowl moaned, trembling harder now, but that was all he managed to get out that was coherent.

"Now for my _next_ little toy," Lockdown continued, activating the second one.

Prowl's static-laden cry was music to Lockdown's audio processors as the innermost walls of his port started spinning around Prowl's spike. Lockdown was enjoying the frag physically, but not nearly to the extent that Prowl was. The mods were definitely more for the pleasure of the partner. Prowl's limbs seemed to be refusing to hold his weight, so Lockdown obligingly gripped Prowl's hips as he rocked his equipment against Prowl's. "Just...a little...longer," he reassured Prowl, but Prowl was letting out such loud groans that Lockdown wasn't even sure Prowl was listening to him anymore.

Just as Lockdown promised, Prowl didn't last much longer. He hit overload suddenly and violently, magnetizing hard into Lockdown's port and sending the bounty hunter over as well with a shout.

As soon as the electricity faded between the two of them, Lockdown switched off his mods. The two lay where they had collapsed and just vented hard for a while. Finally, with a grunt, Lockdown began disengaging his interfacing equipment from Prowl's, the Autobot whimpering slightly as spikes slid against port walls.

Lockdown made a soothing shushing noise and then flopped onto his back next to Prowl. He draped an arm over Prowl's back, and Prowl turned his head to look at Lockdown for a moment. With a contented sigh, Prowl shifted onto his side and snuggled up against Lockdown's side. Lockdown looped his other arm around Prowl and just held the Autobot.

"Primus," Prowl finally breathed.

Lockdown smirked. "So was it good for you too, kid?"

Prowl lightly punched Lockdown's side. "What do you _think_, you crafty slagging Decepticon?"  
"Careful, Autobot," Lockdown said chuckling, squeezing Prowl tighter. "Those're fightin words."

With a contented sigh, Prowl said "Given recent events, I'd be willing to concede victory to you. I must admit I...am beginning to see the appeal in these modifications of yours."

"And you doubted me."

"A mistake I do not intend to repeat in the future."

Lockdown waited a few moments before quietly adding "It glows in the dark, too."

There was a beat of silence. Then Lockdown felt giggles wracking Prowl's slender body. Lockdown couldn't resist a chuckle of his own, and he just watched fondly as Prowl got the giggles out of his system.

* * *

It was almost becoming a game for them, seeing how many pieces of furniture they could successfully interface on. Lockdown's personal favorite was the command chair, which was positioned right in front of his monitors.

That was where they were at that moment. Lockdown was being pressed as far into the metal seat as possible, Prowl's port slick around him. His head was tilted back, optics shuttered off, vents cycling loudly. He was simply revelling in the feeling of Prowl riding him into oblivion.

His vents were going so loudly that he almost didn't hear the warning sound from his monitor: "_Incoming message._"

Lockdown sat bolt upright. "Down!" he hissed at Prowl, pushing him off and shoving him roughly under the main console. He slid his chair as far under the console proper as he could to hide the worst of the evidence of what he'd just been doing.

"Lockdown, what-"

"Shut _up_," Lockdown hissed, using his foot to push Prowl up against the wall, the contact producing a light banging sound. "Unless you want to get us _both_ slagged."

That shut him up, and Lockdown cleared his vocal processor, taking a second or two to gather himself. "Receive message," he instructed the computer. A gray face, encased in a bucket-like helmet with deep, dispassionate red eyes appeared on his screen.

"Lockdown," Megatron's voice intoned from the speakers. "You know I do not like to be kept _waiting_."

"Yeah, sorry 'bout that," the bounty hunter said casually, leaning back slightly in his chair. It gave him a longer reach with his leg, which made it easier to keep Prowl pinned to the wall. And as Prowl had tried to squirm his way free at the sound of Megatron's voice, Lockdown needed all the extra leverage he could get to keep Prowl still. "I just finished testing out a new training program. Was working out some of the dents when you called."

Megatron made a disinterested noise, and Lockdown knew he'd taken the lie. "So what can I do for you, Megatron? You got a job for me, or what?"

"Lockdown, you would do well to remember that I am your superior," Megatron droned at him, that nearly emotionless voice carrying more threat than any scream of rage.

"Right, yeah, sorry," Lockdown said, sounding utterly unrepentant. "But am I gonna get paid?"

Megatron's vents cycled an enormous amount of air. "Yes, Lockdown, _provided_ you bring me what I want." His lights started flashing on his main console as files were transferred to it. "You have all the information you need. I simply wished to impress upon you how imperative it is that you do not fail." He paused for emphasis before adding "For your sake, that is."

Lockdown sat up in his chair, opened the file and quickly began scanning it. His optics flicked back to Megatron. "Consider it done."

"Good," Megatron said. Lockdown thought that was the end of that, but Megatron _always_ had to leave on a cheery note: "Oh and Lockdown? Do not bother returning if you fail."

Lockdown's screen went black.

He sagged back in his chair and released Prowl from the wall, running a servo across his face plates.

That was _too_ close for comfort.

His optics drifted tiredly toward Prowl who was crawling out from underneath the console with a disgruntled look that wouldn't look out of place on a cat. Apparently, he had no problem being pinned to the wall when Lockdown was stimulating him, but it was a different story entirely when Prowl's spark was being threatened.

Prowl dusted himself off, and the optics he turned on Lockdown held an odd glint to them, as though he were seeing Lockdown clearly for the first time.

"I think I should go," Prowl said in that formal way of is. Lockdown realized he'd closed his interface panel at some point, perhaps anticipating a fight or confrontation of some sort.

Lockdown rubbed the back of his helm and switched off his optics. He heaved a sigh through his vents. "You could do that," he conceded. Opening his optics he patted the limited space on the chair next to him. The motion was devoid of any sensuality. "Or you could just sit with me for a while."

Prowl's optics narrowed suspiciously. "Why?"

Lockdown scowled. "Oh I dunno. Maybe because we were almost caught _interfacing_ by _Megatron_, and I just need a minute to calm the frag down."

The Autobot crossed his arms and cocked an optic ridge. "You seemed calm enough to me."

"It's called 'survival', kid. You think I got by as long as I did on good looks alone? Half of the bounty huntin game is knowing how to bluff your way outta a bad situation. You wouldn't believe half the things I've had to keep a straight face through."

Prowl's skeptical look lessened into something more confused than hostile. "I fail to see how my staying here would be soothing considering what just happened."

Lockdown threw his hands up in defeat. "Well frag, Prowl, if that's how you feel leave. I sure as hell ain't gonna keep you here. I just thought maybe some of that stupid zen slag or whatever might rub off on me."

Prowl blinked. "Are you saying...you find me soothing?"

A scoff. "_No_. I'm not _that_ sentimental, you slagging Autobot. I just think that ninja-training or whatever might have its uses." Lockdown considered for a moment, then added "Apart from opening interface panels without someone noticing."

Prowl eyed the command chair. "I do not think it's big enough to hold the both of us, Lockdown."

"So just sit on my lap, then!"

Prowl gave Lockdown a skeptical look.

Lockdown rolled his optics. "Primus, you really think I want to frag after _that_? Pit, I know I've got kinks, Prowl, but Megatron walking in on me 'facing a 'bot isn't exactly a central fantasy of mine. Besides," Lockdown said, pulling a rag out of subspace and quickly cleaning off his interface panel, "there's nothing wrong with us just sitting together for a while."

Lockdown wasn't avoiding Prowl's optics. He _wasn't_. He was cleaning off his interfacing equipment so he could slide the panel closed without having to deal with it later. It required his undivided focus.

When he'd finished, he looked up at Prowl's face just to prove to himself that he _wasn't_ embarrassed at all that he just needed to hold Prowl for a minute or two. Prowl was smirking, the little aft.

"So you are saying we should cuddle?"

Lockdown scowled, and attempted to infect Prowl with some horribly nasty little virus by the force of his glare alone.

"What happened to 'Decepticon mercenary, responsible for the deaths of countless mechs, a dangerous mech'?" Prowl asked, mimicking Lockdown with a fair amount of skill, actually. Lockdown would be impressed if he wasn't too busy glaring holes into the mech's spark.

"Or you could keep talking," Lockdown ground out. "Course, I'd have no other choice but to test out my new plasma cannon on you if you do…"

Prowl put up his hands in a gesture of surrender. "Alright, alright," he said, chuckling slightly. He crossed the distance between them with those easy, nimble strides of his, and gracefully climbed into Lockdown's lap. As Lockdown wrapped his arms around him, Prowl pointed out "You don't have to get so touchy about the word 'cuddle'. It doesn't make you any less impressive of an opponent just because you happen to be touchy-feely…"

"I swear to Primus, I _will_ shoot you out of my air-lock."

Prowl just laughed at him, the slagger. It was a brassy sound, that laugh - solid as the earth church-bells, and just as resounding. It was a good sound, and Lockdown shuttered off his optics, heaving a grateful sigh through his vents.

He honestly had no idea what he would have done if Megatron had caught them.

While it was true that Megatron had more limited power over him than the other members of the Decepticon faction, that didn't give him a free pass to just do anything he damn well pleased. If Megatron had found out Lockdown was interfacing with an Autobot, he would have exploited that connection to its fullest to get whatever information he could from the Autobots. Or worse, simply have Lockdown lure the ninja into a trap and remove that particular annoyance once and for all.

"What was it?"

"Hmmm?" Lockdown's arms tightened around Prowl as he was jolted out of his demoralizing musings.

"What is Megatron sending you after? Or...who?"

Lockdown put his chin on the top of Prowl's helm. "Don't worry about it."

"I _have_ to worry about it, Lockdown. Whatever Megatron is sending you after, he's doubtlessly planning to use it against us."

"And if it's a mech?"  
"_Is_ it?"

Lockdown shrugged, optics switching off again, chin still resting on Prowl's helm. "Couldn't say."

Prowl twisted in Lockdown's arms to look at him. "You mean you're not going to tell me?"

Lockdown switched his optics back on and raised an optic ridge at Prowl. "What? Like you're planning on sending intel my way from the Autobot base?" He shook his head. "Nuh-uh. Information hand-outs weren't part of this particular package. You want gossip from my end, you have to send something my way first."

Prowl looked _legitimately_ offended. "You make it sound like you don't care that that information could be used to hurt me and my teammates."

Lockdown leaned a little ways away from Prowl. "Wait just a second here," he said, starting to get a little annoyed. "You think that just because I'm boinking you every chance I get that I'm just gonna start sending you little tidbits?" He shook his head. "Look, kid, if _you_ wanna get your aft dented by squaring off against Megatron and his goon squad, that's your business. You _chose_ to join the Autobots, you choose to _stay_ with the Autobots. Now me, I chose to pick the side that lets me have the most fun. And nowhere in either of those job descriptions does it say we have to share our respective information. So stop bitching at me about it, would you?"

Despite the look Prowl was giving him, Lockdown refused to take back those words. He wasn't being unreasonable here. True, he _was_ getting intel off of Prowl, but it wasn't like Prowl _knew_ about that. And it wasn't like he was passing that intel on to Megatron, either. If Prowl wanted _legitimate_ information that he could pass on to Optimus, he had to be willing to trade. After all, Lockdown was, first and foremost, a businessman. He was willing to release the information in the file Megatron had sent him, but not just because Prowl asked him for it.

"And here I thought you were different," Prowl said, a hard edge to his voice as he slipped off Lockdown's lap. Lockdown let him go.

"Then you were naive," Lockdown said evenly. He _wasn't_ some cute and cuddly Autobot who was just going to help out cause it was 'the right thing to do', whatever _that_ even meant. And if Prowl had been expecting anything else from him, he was due for a reality check.

Prowl was halfway out the door before he turned and said "I wasn't expecting for you to pledge your spark and cogs in undying loyalty to me. But I had at least hoped that after all the time we've spent together you would have at least grown to have more respect for me than this. I can see I was wrong."

And he was gone.

Lockdown just sat there for a few moments. Suddenly, he lept out of the command chair, ripped it out of the floor, and chucked it across the ship. He proceeded to violently rearrange the inside of his ship.

The nerve, the _pretentious nerve_ of that Autoboot. And really, what was Lockdown expecting? Autobots were, by the very definition of their nature, pretentious, uptight, over-emotional, sentimental, illogical, naive, gullible, stupid, gorgeous, talented…

But to insinuate that he didn't _respect_ Prowl? He had nothing _but_ respect for that mech! Lockdown hadn't had the discipline to complete his training, and thus knew how difficult the path of the ninja was to follow successfully. In that alone, he was jealous of Prowl. He was jealous of Prowl's discipline and focus and drive. But mostly, he _respected_ Prowl's power and dedication and control.

He respected _Prowl_.

Except when he was being a _stupid_ little _glitch_ and asking for things that weren't Lockdown's to give!

And after that near-fiasco with Megatron, too! Didn't Prowl realize how _close_ they'd come to complete and total disaster? Forget about the embarrassment that would come if the Autobots found out - the Autobots were nothing. The Autobots did not kill their own. Didn't torture them. Wouldn't lay a servo on the loved ones of another Autobot just for kicks. Didn't gloat, didn't rub other Autobot's noses in their failures and embarrassments. The Autobots were _above_ all that supposedly.

Megatron was all that and _more._

Lockdown shivered. He could only outrun Megatron for so long, but he _could_ do so for a while. Prowl was stuck on Earth (such a backwards planet) with the other Autobots. Prowl _couldn't_ outrun Megatron.

And Lockdown knew for a _fact _he couldn't overpower Megatron.

Why did he have to be such a pit-slagging _fool_? As his fist made dents in the walls of his ship, he wasn't sure if he was asking that question of himself or of Prowl.


End file.
